


Underwater

by firbolg_boyfriends



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Dimension 20: Fantasy High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, and some non graphic sexual thoughts, bc sometimes thats how it goes when ur Realizing Things about how you are Gay, but there's a happy ending baby, fabian repressing his feelings like there's no tomorrow, no sexual content other than intense kissing, yes it's an emotional rollercoaster folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firbolg_boyfriends/pseuds/firbolg_boyfriends
Summary: Fabian Seacaster was born to be a hero. His golden destiny grew truer and brighter with every passing day and the face of the world was poised for him to write his name on it with his heroic deeds. But lately the narrative hasn't been unfolding the way he always thought it would - the way it was supposed to. His father, his own hero, isn't around anymore. His love interest is somewhere across the sea, her return uncertain. And lately he's been feeling... things... about his guy friend (who's definitely not his best friend).Who is he if he's not the person he thought he was? Who is he if he's not his father? And most importantly, how can he be a hero if - as it turns out - he might not be anything like the heroes from the stories?
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 60
Kudos: 339





	Underwater

**Author's Note:**

> *ignores my responsibilities including my other ongoing fic because I was moved by Fate to write this 20k word behemoth in under a week about Fabian being really sad but also eventually really happy*
> 
> Shoutout to illateasee because talking to them on discord about Fabian inspired me to write this. And shoutout to Halsey's new album Manic because I listened to it on repeat the whole time I was writing this and it's basically the soundtrack of this fic in my mind.
> 
> Also! I call this canon divergence for two reasons. One of them is that the story kind of hinges on the idea of aelwen being Absent but possibly potentially returning of her own volition at some point in the future, which is not exactly how it works in canon. And also, as of writing this, season 2 is not over and I have no idea what the bad kids' lives will be like at the end of it, so just assume this is a universe where season 2 didn't happen lol
> 
> I made myself sad writing some parts of this. But other parts were so much fun. I hope you experience the same. So without further ado, plz enjoy <3

Fabian Aramais Seacaster knew he was a hero. He knew this empirically – it was a logical syllogism that proved itself over and over again, a prophecy that was perpetually coming true, a legend that ended and began with every breath he drew. He could tell by his sword and the way it flashed in the sun and swung through the air as he moved, his body graceful yet sturdy like a predator, the monsters he slew, the hum of the blade. He knew by his feet and the agile patterns they marked in the ground as he fought and especially all the miles he’d traveled away, endlessly farther into the dangerous unknown. And his hands – he’d saved the world with those hands.

He couldn’t do magic like Adaine and Fig and Kristen, but his power was within his ribcage, coursing through his veins, behind his eyes, intrinsic. He was a hero because he was made of heroism. How could he not be, when he had his father’s face?

He knew he was a hero because he did the things that heroes did. Heroes protected their loved ones, who universally adored them in return. They earned unending notoriety and glory, and rightfully so because they had the skills and natural talent to deserve it. The rescued the innocent and destroyed the villainous. They journeyed far and wide and returned home to worship and applause. They commanded respect, fear, admiration – love. They were princes, kings, leaders of their circles, captains of their ships. Pirates. Sons of pirates.

And – perhaps most importantly, at least to Fabian’s very teenage heart – they always, always, always, always, always got the girl.

Speaking of which.

“I can’t wait for Aelwen to come back to Solace. I’m going to take her out to…”

Fabian trailed off as he tried to think of where he would take Aelwen on a date. Basrar’s didn’t seem classy enough for a high elf aristocrat heiress. She also didn’t strike him as the type of person who would enjoy the Black Pit. But he couldn’t just have her over to his mansion – at least not right away. ‘Buy a gal a drink first,’ as they say.

The Ball turned around and stared at him. With a start, Fabian realized he’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t been following, and he hurried to catch up, stepping carefully so that he wouldn’t twist his ankle on the rocks – they were too large to easily walk over but much too small for climbing. Maybe The Ball could climb them if he got down on his hands and knees. Fabian pictured it for a moment, and then immediately stopped because it occurred to him that it was possibly weird to picture his friend in that sort of… position. Especially his guy friend.

Great, now Fabian felt weird, and The Ball hadn’t even done anything.

They were in the woods on the west end of Elmville – The Ball had brought Fabian along with him, ostensibly to help him look for clues, but Fabian hadn’t really accomplished much of anything besides following him through the underbrush and along winding dirt paths and, currently, through a late-August-dry riverbed.

To be fair, Fabian didn’t really understand what they were supposed to be looking for. But, also to be fair, he hadn’t been listening that well when The Ball had talked about the case he was working on – well, all the times he’d talked about it, at school and at Jawbone and Sandra-Lynn’s place and even as they entered the forest, before Fabian got started talking about Aelwen, whenever that had been. Sometimes it was hard to remember what he’d been doing during the times when he wasn’t thinking about her.

“Where are you going to take her?” The Ball asked.

Fabian almost tripped over him because he hadn’t expected him to stop moving. The Ball had grown several inches since they’d first met at the beginning of freshman year, but the top of his head still barely reached Fabian’s throat, and that was only when they were at school and The Ball was wearing his wingtips with the subtle heels. He’d gradually stopped dressing so much so much like a silent film gumshoe over the last two years, but he’d kept on with the vintage kicks. Fabian had never said he liked them. He wondered if he should.

Because of the uneven rocks, The Ball was now roughly eye level with Fabian’s chin, and Fabian could see that the wavy bangs that usually fell softly around his cheekbones were sticking to his face just a little from the heat and exertion, and that his green-gold eyes were almost amber around the pupil, and there was a very small, very faint coffee stain on the corner of his upper lip, and Fabian found himself thinking about photos he’d seen of The Ball’s father – the extremely handsome goblin in the movie-star suit.

The Ball didn’t look exactly like that, but he edged closer to it every day – jawline sharpening, nose lengthening, hints of that undeniable X-factor that turned boys into men and men into debonair secret agents. He still had big doe eyes, though. They made him look young and a little bit sweet. They were also now looking at Fabian expectantly. Because The Ball had asked Fabian a question. Right.

“What?” Fabian managed. Dumbly.

The Ball sighed. Fondly, Fabian hoped. “You have no idea, do you?”

Fabian frowned. He didn’t like when The Ball made him feel like he didn’t understand everything that was going on. Although, to again be completely fair, the most common reason for his lack of understanding was his failure to listen to The Ball. “No idea about what?”

“I meant. Where you’re going to take her. Or what you’re going to do once she’s here, just in general.” Holding out his arms for balance, The Ball stepped onto the next rock, away from Fabian. “We haven’t seen her in ages, Fabian. What do you think is gonna happen?”

“Uh, we’re gonna kiss, for one,” Fabian said, stepping after The Ball, who shot him an amused glance over his shoulder.

The Ball was wearing an Aguefort Owlbears t-shirt. He owned several. Most of them used to belong to Fabian, because Fabian was constantly receiving new gear as a perk of being on the bloodrush team and so he offered his older shirts and hoodies and windbreakers to his friends and The Ball inexplicably insisted on taking all of them even though they were much too big for him. This one fit, though – Fabian vaguely remembered The Ball getting it from a t-shirt cannon when he went to watch one of Fabian’s games. It was purely coincidentally goblin-sized.

It looked… nice. On him. His compact, wiry frame was more visible than usual. His arms and legs were spindly but still looked strong, taut like bowstrings. Fabian had never noticed the way his shoulders tapered to his waist. Maybe it was a relatively new development, like his deepening voice and his… hands. They were less petite and doll-like than they’d once been, more square and long-fingered and sturdy-looking. Fabian had no idea why he apparently thought about The Ball’s hands enough to have an opinion.

He felt weird again. He needed to keep talking about Aelwen. Aelwen, he’d discovered, made for an excellent raft when he couldn’t keep his head above the waves of a strange sea.

“I can’t wait to kiss Aelwen when she first arrives. It’s going to be extra fantastic because I’ve been waiting for so long,” he said offhandedly, squinting up at the bright sun above the treetops. It was past mid-afternoon now. He wondered if he should text Cathilda to tell her to have kippers ready for when he returned.

There was a clattering sound. Fabian looked back over at The Ball to see him examining his foot with an unhappy expression on his face.

“What happened, The Ball?” Fabian asked, concerned by The Ball’s pinched eyebrows.

The Ball’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “I just. I kicked a rock. And it hurt my foot.”

Fabian scoffed even as he automatically hurried over. “Why would you kick a rock, The Ball? That’s never a good idea. Especially with your tiny feet. I mean, I might be able to do it without hurting myself, because of how big and strong I am, you know,” he rambled, kneeling next to The Ball to take a look for himself. The Ball hummed in agreement, the way he always did when Fabian talked about how tough and athletic he was. That was one of many things Fabian appreciated about The Ball in particular.

“How badly does it hurt?” he asked, already moving to take off The Ball’s shoe.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” The Ball asked, nervous, wobbling as Fabian lifted his foot.

“I’m checking for a bruise, what does it look like? Your toe might be broken,” Fabian said impatiently. “Here, you can lean on my shoulder, come on.”

He began untying The Ball’s shoelace, but stopped when he noticed that The Ball was not, in fact, leaning on his shoulder.

“Why aren’t you leaning on my shoulder?” he asked, mildly irritated. “We need to look at your foot. What if it’s broken?”

“I really don’t think it’s broken, Fabian,” The Ball replied, but he gingerly laid a hand on Fabian’s upper back anyway.

The Ball was right. His foot seemed fine. At least as far as Fabian could tell – but he was somewhat distracted by the realization that he kind of, maybe, enjoyed having The Ball lean on him for support. It made him feel like a… hero, he supposed. That was one of the things heroes did, after all: supported their friends.

It also made him realize how little The Ball really was, even with how much he’d grown since freshman year, and that he was still built stern if compact, and he also smelled like – ordinary men’s shampoo from the drugstore with a hint of dirt and sweat, but Fabian found himself thinking that it was a pleasant mélange of aromas, beyond all reason. And he felt weird again. He didn’t know what the weirdness was exactly. Maybe he should come up with a better name for it, since it had been cropping up a lot lately.

Carefully, Fabian re-tied The Ball’s shoelace and stood, clearing his throat. “Well. You seem uninjured to me. Which is a good thing, because now I won’t have to carry you back to the trailhead.”

The Ball blinked rapidly at him, hand sliding away from Fabian’s upper arm. “Yeah… good. Because, I mean. Nobody wants that, right?” he laughed slightly, turning away.

“Exactly.” Fabian clapped The Ball on the back and The Ball stumbled forward, almost falling off the rock he was standing on. Reflexively, Fabian held onto his upper arm to keep him standing. “Oh, sorry, are you okay?” slipped out of his mouth.

The Ball regained his footing and smiled at him. It occurred to Fabian that he hadn’t actually seen The Ball smile for what felt like a really long time – at least since they’d gone into the woods. He missed The Ball’s smile, he realized. It was a nice smile. It made The Ball resemble that photo of his father just an extra degree. And it also made Fabian feel weird, in his chest specifically. He glanced away.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Fabian.”

They stood there for a moment in the hot afternoon sun, birds distantly chirping from among the maple and alder trees. It was peaceful here, Fabian thought.

And then the moment ended. “Well,” The Ball said, stepping away from Fabian. “Let’s keep looking for clues.”

“Mm-hmm,” Fabian nodded distractedly, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt to air out his sweaty torso. There was a part of him that really wanted to stand close to The Ball again, and he didn’t know why.

Aelwen, Aelwen, Aelwen.

“What was I saying earlier? About Aelwen?” he mused. Faintly, he thought he heard The Ball sigh, but it might’ve just been the breeze.

&

Fabian shoveled eggs in his mouth, focusing on the blank white ceramic façade of the coffee mug on the diner table in front of him. It was roughly one thirty am, and he and Kristen had just finished with an investigation to help Riz with his case, and now they were eating late, late, late dinner or possibly early, early, early breakfast and she’d decided that now would be a good time to regale him with an unnecessarily detailed account of her last intimate encounter with her girlfriend.

“And so then she took all four of her fingers and she – wait, is this too information? You can stop me, you know. Like, you’re staring really hard at that coffee cup. You good, dude?”

Fabian glanced up at her, eyes wide. She quirked a half-smile, tucking a loose ginger hair behind her studded ear. “What – I wasn’t – it’s just an interesting mug.”

She smirked. “Fabian. Are you shy?”

He scoffed, leaning back against the vinyl booth seat. “What? Definitely not. I – I know lots about sex. And I’m, like – good at it, and stuff,” he finished awkwardly.

She continued to smirk, clasping her hands together and leaning forward. “Are you? It’s okay to feel shy about sex. Especially if you haven’t had it before.”

He continued to scoff. “Um, yeah, I know that, Kristen. And – okay, fine, I haven’t had sex before. But I’m totally going to, when Aelwen gets here.”

It felt odd to say it loud. He realized that, for some reason, he’d never actually thought about having sex with Aelwen – his fantasies had always trailed off after the kissing, like the camera panning away from the bed in a romance movie. But – he was going to, right? It was what – it was what heroes did. They got the girl, and they made love to the girl. The logic followed. The prophecy came true.

Kristen stared at him, pale blue eyes narrowed in an eerily knowing way. He shoveled more eggs into his mouth, breaking eye contact.

“Hey, Fabian? Can I ask you something?”

“You already are,” he replied testily.

She rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. “Come on, don’t be like that, I’m serious.”

He took another bite of eggs, raising his eyebrows at her in answer.

“Fabian… do you love Aelwen?”

“Obviously! Was that really your question?” he laughed, still feeling mildly uncomfortable. He took a gulp of coffee to avoid looking directly at her.

“I mean, like… how do you know you love her?” Kristen prompted, eyes still narrowed thoughtfully.

“Why are you asking me this? Are you trying to figure out if you love Tracker?”

Kristen snorted. “What? No. I know for sure I love her. I’m just curious what your reasoning is.”

He folded his arms. “Well, why don’t you tell me your reasoning first? Maybe it’s the same.” And maybe it would help him come up with something he could say, because at this point he really wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Aelwen. Obviously he did – obviously! He just – couldn’t articulate why, and needed some inspiration.

Kristen bit her lip as she smiled, eyes drifting to the ceiling, clearly picturing Tracker. “I just… she’s always patient with me. She never needs me to justify myself. But at the same time, she’s always, like, pushing me and inspiring me to grow and be a better version of myself. And she supports me in everything I do, in the, like, religious community and stuff. Like, she just – she’s my best friend. God, it’s so amazing to be in love with my best friend. That’s the dream, really.”

She paused to grin happily, taking a sip of her own coffee. “And like, also… the whole ‘gay’ thing. I realized that even though – like, we’re both women but I wanted her. To be with her. And I never grew up hearing stories about that but when I met her, I knew it was right. She brought me into the light.” She laughed. “God, that sounds so silly. But it’s true!”

Fabian felt weird. It was like his heart was pounding, but his heart was also hollow, and the sound of it was echoing in his body. He arranged his face into a smile. “That’s great. It really is.”

And it really was. He genuinely thought so. It was just – it was just. He didn’t know how he felt, and that frustrated him.

When she said ‘best friend’ he automatically thought of The Ball, and it was weird to think about The Ball when he was having a conversation about, like, love and romance. Even thinking about romance and The Ball in the same beat felt – like, that was weird!

Especially because The Ball wasn’t even his best friend – the phrase had only called him to mind because Fabian was The Ball’s best friend, at least according to The Ball. The Ball said that a lot. He was always talking about how great he thought Fabian was, both to Fabian himself and to everyone else, as far as Fabian could tell. The Ball was possibly his biggest fan.

That thought, specifically, made him feel vulnerable and shy, which was so stupid because he was Fabian Aramais Seacaster and he didn’t get shy and he definitely didn’t get vulnerable. Heroes were invulnerable, in fact – that was the exact opposite of vulnerable. Heroes had fans, too, didn’t they? It wasn’t anything special. That was another thing that happened in the stories in he’d heard – the girls the heroes loved, and the guys who loved the heroes. The Ball was just a guy. Who. Well.

Fabian was his hero. No, Fabian was a hero, no possessive pronoun, and The Ball was someone else.

Fabian cleared his throat. “I guess I love Aelwen because of – all those reasons. The same ones you said.” He ate more eggs.

She steepled her hands in front of her face, exhaling. “Really? There’s, like, nothing you have to add to that at all?”

He chewed thoughtfully. “Well – minus the gay thing. Because I’m straight, you know.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kristen nodded in affirmation. “I mean, well. I thought I was straight, too, you know? Like, you really never know. That special someone might come along, if you understand what I’m saying.”

Fabian chugged the rest of his coffee. “Yeah, that special someone did come along, and it’s Aelwen. That’s why I’m waiting for her –”

“To come back, and kiss you, yeah, yeah, I know, I get it,” she interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m just saying – and please don’t take this the wrong way – you just don’t, like, know Aelwen that well. So maybe you should keep your options open! That’s all I’m saying!”

He scoffed yet again, sitting back in his seat with his legs stretched luxuriously far apart, arm draped over the back of the bench in a way that made him feel expansive and powerful. He was trying to hide the fact that he didn’t feel particularly expansive or powerful right now. He felt like he was badly treading water, barely keeping his head above the crashing waves.

Aelwen was his raft. That was why he loved her. And the only reason he felt this way was because she wasn’t here right now.

“Thanks for the concern, Kristen, but it was love at first sight with me and Aelwen. We didn’t even need to talk that much. The chemistry was just so physically palpable.”

She made a face. “Okay. Ew. Forget I said anything. Can I go back to telling my story from earlier?” she pleaded.

“Ugh, fine,” he conceded, waving her on.

&

The Ball’s nose was very pointy. Fabian was thinking about that because The Ball was currently hunched forward over his homework, and if his nose was made of graphite Fabian thought he could very easily write with it.

They were in Fabian’s room doing homework on a Thursday afternoon. Or actually – now that Fabian really thought about it, The Ball was probably doing something for the case he was working on. Based on everything he knew about The Ball, he imagined that the case would be a much higher priority for him than homework, and the papers The Ball had tossed onto Fabian’s bedspread looked more like casework than class assignments.

Fabian kind of wanted to know more about what The Ball was doing, but he didn’t want to ask because he didn’t want to admit he hadn’t been listening very well when The Ball talked about his case. A small part of him thought The Ball might be disappointed, which was irrational because The Ball had never been disappointed in him as far as he could remember, and why would he care, anyway? He was out of The Ball’s league! The Ball should be the one worried about disappointing him. Although when Fabian considered that notion, maybe The Ball didn’t, in fact, need to be worried, because Fabian couldn’t remember ever being genuinely disappointed in him either – he’d pretended lots of times, of course.

The Ball was lying on his stomach, weight resting on his elbows and his ankles crossed, feet up in the air and swaying slightly side to side as he furiously took notes on some lecture going on inside his head. The papers in front of him gradually darkened with his tight, intense, chicken-scratch handwriting. The Ball was left-handed, Fabian realized – he was resting his head in his cupped right hand, fingers absently toying with a stray curl. From this angle Fabian could see how long his eyelashes were – they shadowed his cheekbones in twin crescent-moon curves. The Ball was kind of good-looking, Fabian thought. And not just in the sense that he resembled that photo of his father. He had his own unique sort of… look, and it was a good one. From an objective standpoint.

Fabian remembered his conversation with Kristen the other night and wondered vaguely whether The Ball had ever had sex with anyone. He didn’t think so, because Fabian couldn’t imagine who it would have been with. Although maybe The Ball had a private life that he didn’t tell anyone else about, and he was actually sleeping with lots of people. Maybe he even had a sweetheart that he’d chosen not to mention to anyone.

Fabian pictured it: someone kissing The Ball, unbuttoning one of those short-sleeved striped shirts he liked to wear when the weather was warm, a faceless figure running their hands down his sides and squeezing his narrow hips, lifting him bodily onto the bed, the expression of wonder on The Ball’s face. The bed in this mental image was Fabian’s bed, because it was the bed Fabian saw the most often and it came to mind the most easily, although obviously The Ball would never have sex on Fabian’s bed. At least, Fabian hoped not, because that would make no sense and also just be really weird.

Now he was curious about whether The Ball really did have a secret sweetheart or hookup partner. Would it be weird to ask? Guys talked about that stuff with other guys, right? Locker room talk, and all that. Although they were in Fabian’s bedroom now, not a locker room. Fabian also didn’t think The Ball would fit in particularly well in the bloodrush locker room. He was too much of a nerd. He would probably try to talk to everyone about podcasts or something. And the bloodrush guys usually discussed girls, and Fabian had never once heard The Ball express interest in any girl.

Did The Ball like… boys? He’d never directly said anything to indicate that that was the case, but it made a lot of sense now that Fabian gave it consideration. He couldn’t quantify why, exactly, but it just… felt true. Fabian also realized that he’d automatically imagined The Ball having sex with someone masculine, or at least someone who was physically bigger than him and kind of… assertive.

It occurred to Fabian, at this juncture, that he was maybe, kind of, a little bit, just sort of, into the idea of himself being the… more decisive figure in a sexual context. Especially with someone who tended towards an impulsive and wild and headstrong nature at other times. Not The Ball – obviously! But, for example, Aelwen. The person he was attracted to.

He tried to visualize himself and Aelwen doing… that, but it was difficult because The Ball was right next to him on the bed and so of course he was thinking about The Ball at the moment, because if a person was in the room with him then of course it would be challenging to banish them from his mind. He decided he should just try to avoid thinking about sex when The Ball was around, because he didn’t want the two topics to get all tangled up.

But when someone says ‘don’t think about a purple elephant,’ and all that.

Unintentionally, Fabian found himself wondering if The Ball liked… being bossed around. In, like, an intimate setting. Maybe he preferred to do the bossing-around himself occasionally. It was kind of hot sometimes when the littler person was bossy. In theory. Like, it was hot in an abstract way, unrelated to anything that Fabian had ever experienced, or ever would experience, because Aelwen wasn’t little, or at least not as little as The Ball.

Did The Ball’s hypothetical sweetheart like it when The Ball told him what to do? He probably did. Hypothetically. But he also probably liked picking The Ball up and throwing him around. Not like a bloodrush ball – like sexy manhandling. He probably didn’t call him The Ball, because only Fabian did that. Fabian would call him his real name, though, if they ever were to… Fabian quickly shut the door on that line of thought. That was a weird thing to think about! For so many reasons! And he loved Aelwen anyway, so the idea of… He didn’t want to… With anyone else. Besides Aelwen.

The Ball tilted his head to one side, lifting his eyes. “Fabian, are you good? You’ve been staring at me for, like, the last two minutes. Is there something in my hair?”

Fabian startled, nearly knocking over the portable desk he’d been balancing on his knees. “What? No! Your hair is – it’s fine. I mean – yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. I wasn’t – I was just, like, spacing out.”

The Ball’s hair actually looked, like, really good right now, because he’d been running his hands through it and messing it up while he was lost in thought. He always wore it neatly parted and combed at the beginning of classes and then it gradually got more and more tousled and feral throughout the day. Fabian sometimes made fun of him for that but he secretly didn’t mind it at all.

The Ball arched an eyebrow, and to Fabian’s abject horror, that arched-eyebrow expression on The Ball’s face, especially combined with the untidy hair, was kind of like… reminding him of things he’d just been thinking about. Which was so weird. Stupid hormones. It was incredibly annoying of his brain to associate The Ball with… that sort of topic. He readjusted the portable desk so that it was securely hiding his lap from view. Just in case. Because he was a teenage boy, and sometimes unexpected things occurred, even if he was only pondering the theoretical concept of his guy friend hooking up with an unknown person.

Nodding, The Ball glanced back down at the notes he was writing and blew out a frustrated breath. He swept the papers away from himself and rolled onto his back, stretching his limbs in the air. “God, I’m so tired of working on this. I just can’t figure out where the knife went for the life of me. Like, whose was it? Who would’ve taken it from the scene? Was it a magical disappearing knife?”

“Those probably exist,” Fabian remarked, trying to distract himself from his previous line of thinking.

“I’m so tired of this. Distract me,” The Ball groaned at the ceiling, inadvertently mirroring Fabian’s thoughts.

Fabian sighed. He supposed he would have to distract them both somehow.

“Can I ask you something, The Ball?”

The Ball lolled his head over to grin cheekily at Fabian. “You already are.”

Fabian pretended to whack him with a throw pillow and The Ball smoothly barrel-rolled out of the way, giggling hysterically. He ended up curled next to Fabian’s legs and Fabian shifted away from him just slightly. He felt weird about touching The Ball right now.

The Ball moved onto his stomach, propping himself on his elbows. “Yeah, sure, ask me something. As long as it’s not about the case. Or especially the knife.”

Fabian rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

The Ball sighed and hung his head. “You’re right. Distract me faster!”

Fabian bit his lip. In reality, he hadn’t actually had anything in mind that he wanted to ask The Ball – he’d just been hoping an idea would strike him in the moment. It didn’t even matter that much anyway. But he was completely blanking on potential conversation topics, and if he was being honest with himself it had a lot to do with the fact that The Ball lying on his bed and commanding Fabian to distract him was not exactly very helpful in terms of getting his mind off… things.

His stupid hormonal teenage brain was supplying him with an unsolicited barrage of ideas about how a hypothetical person could hypothetically “distract” a second hypothetical person if the two of them were, hypothetically, on a bed. And none of them were ideas that he wanted to dwell on while thinking about The Ball, ever, but especially when The Ball was, like, two feet away from him.

This was a nightmare. He had to think fast.

“Are you, like…seeing anyone?” he heard his mouth say. Dammit, that was not the direction he’d been hoping to go in.

The Ball’s eyes widened almost comically. He really did have enormous eyes. “What? Why do you ask?”

Fabian felt his face warm, which was unbelievably stupid. Unbelievably. “Um… no reason. I was just… wondering. Because you haven’t mentioned anyone ever, like that, so.”

The Ball arched an eyebrow again, which. He needed to stop doing that.

“Why wouldn’t you take that to mean that I’m not seeing anyone? Occam’s Razor, Fabian. Basic detective work.”

“I’m not a detective, I’m a pirate,” Fabian said defensively. “And anyway, sometimes you can be secretive. Or, like, not totally forthcoming.”

The Ball shrugged. “I guess so. I tell you pretty much everything, though.”

Fabian felt shy all of a sudden. Stupid!

“Ah, why?” he asked, stammering only a tiny bit.

“Um, because…” The Ball glanced down at his folded hands, a little shy himself. “You’re my best friend. Best friends tell each other everything, you know?”

Fabian felt… weird. Like, weird in a good way, which was even more weird. He cleared his throat, flicking his eyes over to the window, away from The Ball. “Um… so you’re not seeing anyone, then?”

“Why do you want to know?” he heard The Ball respond, elusive as ever. There was also something… odd in his voice. Fabian couldn’t put a finger on it.

Fabian turned back to him and made an irritated face, which calmed his nerves because it grounded him back in what felt more like Typical Fabian-and-The-Ball Interaction territory. “I’m just curious. Why are you being so cagey about it?”

The Ball sighed. He had that annoyed-but-also-a-little-amused-and-fond look on his face that he usually had when Fabian was pushing him around, but there was something else in his eyes that Fabian, again, couldn’t put a finger on. “I’m not being cagey, I was just… Anyway. I’m not seeing anyone. If you really want to know.”

“Oh. Cool.” Fabian awkwardly cleared his throat again, shifting his homework around on the surface of his portable desk so he had an excuse to avoid eye contact. “I’m seeing Aelwen, so. I mean, like, I will be when she gets back. But you already knew that.”

“Yeah. I did.” The Ball sat up and moved back over to where his casework was spread out on Fabian’s blankets. “Anyway… I need to figure out where that knife went.”

Fabian nodded, not looking at him.

&

“Hey, Fabian, somebody’s waiting for you in the bleachers. He’s cute!” Ragh yelled.

Fabian caught the bloodrush ball as Ragh threw it to him, squinting in the September sun. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Ragh opened his arms to catch as Fabian threw. They were doing drills, like they always did on Wednesday afternoons. Fabian found it incredibly boring because he just wanted to play bloodrush. The drills were meant to hone specific skills or strengthen particular muscles, but Fabian was already skilled in general and all of his muscles were strong, so.

Leaning to one side to catch the ball, Ragh said, “There’s a cute guy in the bleachers. I think he’s waiting for you to finish so he can talk to you.”

Fabian frowned. It bothered him that he was interested in finding out who this cute guy was, because there was no reason for him to be interested – he didn’t even like guys the way Ragh did, and he wasn’t single, anyway. Well – he wasn’t technically in a relationship, yet, but it was inevitably going to happen. “Are you sure he’s not waiting for you? We’re in the same part of the field. And you – I mean, I’m not into guys.”

Ragh paused after catching at the ball, holding it loosely in front of his abdomen as he frowned in confusion. “Wait – really? I could’ve sworn you were – well, whatever. Maybe he doesn’t know that.”

“Again, I feel like he’s probably waiting for you, Ragh. Hey, throw it.”

Ragh threw it. “No, he’s definitely looking at you. See for yourself.” He pointed at the bleachers.

“It’s rude to point,” Fabian hissed, mostly because he didn’t want this guy, whoever he was, to realize that Fabian had seen him there. He was instinctively aware that when someone was into him, he should play it cool and not necessarily let on that he knew what was up. It wasn’t that he was, like, interested in this guy, at all. He was just naturally good at courtship and he couldn’t turn off that part of his skillset.

He tried to surreptitiously peer at the bleachers out of the corner of his eye. He might’ve actually pulled it off, if he hadn’t noticeably stopped throwing the ball to Ragh and if Ragh hadn’t also been openly staring and even leaning forward to see better.

A small figure waved excitedly in Fabian’s general direction. A small, dark-haired figure, wearing an – admittedly cute, from an objective standpoint – patterned-shirt-and-cuffed-pants outfit, with black-and-white saddle shoes that shone bright in the sun and green skin – ah.

Fabian scowled. “Ragh, that’s not a cute guy, that’s just The Ball.”

Ragh smirked. “What, are you disappointed?”

“What? No,” Fabian scoffed. “I don’t like guys, remember?”

“I guess so,” Ragh shrugged. “I think he’s cute, though. Don’t you?”

Fabian threw the ball hard at him, nearly hitting his head. “I just said I don’t like guys! And even if I did, that’s not – that’s The Ball! Like, he’s – he’s a guy, I guess, but he’s not, like – ugh. Wait, do you seriously not know who The Ball is?”

Ragh stared at him blankly. “…Should I?”

“You’ve met him, you dolt! He killed Coach Daybreak, remember?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh yeah. I know who that is.” Ragh tossed The Ball back. “It was kinda hot when he killed Coach.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I thought you and Coach Daybreak were friends.”

“I mean, yeah, but then he turned out to be, like, evil. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but like later when I thought about it, it was kinda hot, bro. Like, it’s hot when guys are all tough and shit.”

Fabian scoffed again. “The Ball’s not tough. I’m tough,” he added, although he had no idea why he cared whether Ragh thought he was hot.

Ragh smirked at him again. “Yeah, you know you’re hot, dude, that’s a fact. But I think he’s also – what did you say his name was?”

“The Ball.”

“That’s a weird name… are you sure that’s his name?”

Fabian let his jaw fall open. “Ragh! You’re the one who gave him that name!”

“Oh, is that true? Huh.” Ragh shrugged. “What’s his real name, then?”

“Riz,” Fabian said.

It felt weird saying The Ball’s real name, for several reasons. One of them was that he simply didn’t say it very often, so it sounded strange in his voice. And another was that… saying someone’s name felt sort of… intimate. Especially The Ball’s name. It felt like the removal of a barrier – he was suddenly so much more exposed.

“That’s a cute name. You should go talk to him. It’s kinda hot, how he’s like, tough,” Ragh commented as he caught the ball.

“The Ball’s not tough,” Fabian said again. Although it felt like a lie. The Ball was pretty tough, now that he thought about it. He didn’t fight the same way Fabian did, but he could still hold his own in combat, and he was also clever and resourceful and good at figuring out the best angle from which to approach a dangerous situation. And he was smart, too – he was a detective, after all. Fabian could understand, in theory, why someone – Ragh, for example – might find those qualities attractive. Especially how when The Ball was really passionate about something he overflowed with so much fire and fury, like the time he killed Kalvaxus – that was kind of hot. Theoretically. Not to Fabian, of course, but to Ragh, probably.

Coach Gorthalax blew the whistle to indicate that it was time to run laps. Ragh jogged off to deposit his shirt somewhere. Fabian wondered if he should take off his shirt, too.

He just didn’t want, like – he was the best player on the team, objectively, and everyone knew that, and he was also the hottest, and everyone probably knew that, too, but like, he wanted to make sure that everyone really understood it. He wanted everyone to pay attention to him, not Ragh, or any of the other guys. Because! He should be the center of attention.

And he didn’t really need to impress everyone, because everyone already thought he was great, but he still wanted to, anyway. He wanted everyone to see him outrunning the other guys on the track and looking really handsome, and he wanted everyone to admire him and think about how cool and attractive he was and feel even more excited to spend time with him.

And he definitely didn’t want everyone to talk to Ragh after practice. Everyone could do so much better than Ragh.

Fabian pulled his shirt over his head and casually tossed it onto the bright green turf. He did a couple of stretches for good measure, making sure to pout stoically into the middle distance so it didn’t seem like he cared about how beautiful he was. He privately felt glad he’d chosen to wear the shorts that showed off his butt particularly well. Ragh wolf-whistled.

“Hey, Fabian –” Gorgug began, jogging up to him. Fabian ignored him and sprinted away.

Usually Fabian only gave the drills about twenty percent effort, maybe thirty percent if he was feeling generous, but today he gave it at least ninety percent, running so fast he lapped everyone else on the team at least twice.

After practice was over, his teammates headed to the locker room to shower, but Fabian walked over to the chain-link fence separating the field from the bleachers, wiping his flushed, sweaty face with his discarded shirt.

The Ball skipped down the bleachers to meet Fabian at the fence, hooking his tiny fingers through the chain link. “Hey, Fabian. You looked so cool out there. You were the fastest one!” he said, eyes shining with admiration.

Fabian preened. He obviously didn’t care, specifically, about The Ball’s opinion, except inasmuch as it reflected the opinions of, like. Everyone in general. But it was always nice to receive a compliment, especially a well-deserved one. “I always am, The Ball,” he said gruffly, running a hand through his hair in a way that he knew would make it look all sexy and tousled.

“Yeah, you totally are. You’re so good at sports,” The Ball gushed, pressing his face close to the chain link.

“I know, The Ball, please.” He feigned annoyance. This was the game they played – The Ball showered him with praise, and Fabian pretended not to like it.

Was this what a best friend was? Someone who just – adored you? And whose adoration you enjoyed and hoped for? He’d already known he was The Ball’s best friend, but had The Ball become his best friend, quietly, while he wasn’t paying attention? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was – weird, certainly. It felt weird. He knew that much. He put his shirt back on.

He caught The Ball’s eyes flicking back up to his as he pulled his head through the collar. The Ball had probably been appreciating his abs. A lot of guys envied Fabian’s musculature, which was completely understandable. Maybe The Ball was interested in working out more.

The Ball cleared his throat. “Um, so… I was wondering if you wanted to go to Basrar’s.”

“What, to study? Our paper isn’t due for two weeks, you know, I was thinking we could work on it on a weekend or something maybe –”

The Ball shook his head, laughing. “No, like – just for fun. To get ice cream. Do you wanna?”

He rocked back and forth on his heels, holding on to the fence for balance, and Fabian automatically grabbed one of his hands because he was worried he would accidentally let go of the chain link and fall backwards. The Ball startled like he’d been electrocuted, staring at their joined hands in shock.

Fabian rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, The Ball, I’m just making sure you don’t fall.”

“Oh – oh, that’s what you were doing.” The Ball laughed nervously. “Uh, you don’t have to worry about that, Fabian. I’m pretty dexterous, I don’t usually fall. Or if I do, I land on my feet.”

Fabian shrugged. He hadn’t actually been thinking about how dexterous The Ball was – it had been something of a reflex. The Ball did something potentially dangerous, Fabian tried to keep him safe. It was just some sort of… hero instinct. “If you say so. And yeah, I’ll come get ice cream. I just have to go shower first.”

The Ball nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait for you outside the locker room.”

Fabian frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve already been waiting for so long –”

“I didn’t mind!” The Ball said quickly, and then he coughed. “Um, I mean. What I meant to say was, I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“If you’re certain,” Fabian said, letting go of the fence. The Ball slowly pulled his own hand away, staring at it as if he thought Fabian might’ve gotten jam on it or something. “I promise my hands are clean, The Ball,” he informed him, slightly miffed.

The Ball glanced up at him, surprised. “Oh, that’s not what I – I’m sure they are, Fabian.”

Fabian flashed him a grin. “Okay, well. See you in a few.”

“Yeah, see you,” The Ball said, hoisting his messenger bag over his shoulder as he headed towards the stadium exit.

Fabian paused for a moment, watching him walk away and thinking about what Ragh had said. Then he turned and jogged towards the locker rooms.

&

It was something like three am. Probably after three am.

Fabian wasn’t sure anymore. He was so tired. He’d come over to The Ball’s office to do homework after dinner, and then The Ball had asked him to help him with the case, which for The Ball often meant sitting in a chair and listening patiently while The Ball pointed to a bunch of different photos and news clippings pinned to a bulletin board with yarn stretched between the tacks and tried to explain what they meant, typically in a rapid, convoluted, unnecessarily circuitous way that made very little sense to Fabian.

Fabian wondered absently if The Ball deliberately invited him over at night so he’d be exhausted enough to sit compliantly and not interrupt him with tangentially related questions and complete non sequiturs like he did when he had more energy. It was working.

He slouched his hips forward in the chair and lolled his head over the back, staring drowsily at the ceiling. There was a crack there. Fabian wondered if The Ball was aware of the crack. “There’s a crack in your ceiling, you know.”

He heard a sigh. “Fabian, are you even paying attention?”

“Course I am. You were talking about the knife.” It was a solid guess – The Ball’s primary topic of conversation these days was the knife.

“I was,” The Ball answered, sounding pleased. Even as sleepy as he was, Fabian felt rather proud of himself for pleasing The Ball.

He slid off the chair – narrowly avoiding landing on the floor – and got to his feet, padding over to the bulletin board to take a closer look. He stood behind The Ball and rested his elbows on his shoulders, hands clasped over The Ball’s head. He sometimes did that to taunt The Ball by showing him how much taller he was, although The Ball never seemed particularly annoyed by it.

“The thing I just can’t figure out…” The Ball murmured, stroking his chin.

“Is what?” Fabian asked.

“Is who took the knife from the crime scene. I mean, it could’ve easily been any of these people…” He gestured a hand at a trifecta of mug shots pinned at odd angles in the corner of the bulletin board. Fabian looked at them consideringly. He really couldn’t get a beat on any one in particular. He wished he remembered more of what The Ball had said about them.

There was another photo nearby – a security camera shot of a dwarf in a dark jacket. Fabian pointed at it, slumping to rest his chin on top of The Ball’s head. “What about that guy?”

The Ball looked at the photo. And looked some more. And then he gasped excitedly, accidentally shoving Fabian off of him. “I think you’re right! It was him, it had to have been him! I mean, it makes total sense, if you consider the burner crystal, and the drug dealer’s alibi, and the blunt force trauma – I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! Fabian, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” Fabian said, a bit testily. He wanted The Ball to stay still so he could lean on him again. He was so tired.

“You did it, Fabes, you helped me figure out a key clue! You’re the best. Best friends forever.” He threw his arms around Fabian’s torso, burying his face in his chest and humming happily.

He and The Ball didn’t hug very often, Fabian realized. He wondered why not. The physical contact was so nice, especially when he was drowsy. And The Ball was the perfect size to snuggle up with for a nap – he fit right in Fabian’s arms. Fabian squeezed him tighter as if he was a teddy bear, feeling like he might fall asleep standing up.

Eventually The Ball leaned away from Fabian’s chest, gazing up at him with an open, soft expression that made Fabian feel… cozy, and safe. The room was also mostly dark except for the reading lamp on The Ball’s desk, and Fabian really wanted to go to sleep. He looked into The Ball’s green-gold eyes, which shimmered in the low light, and noticed the bottle-green freckles scattered along his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

Ragh had been right, Fabian thought dimly. The Ball was pretty cute. Some guy would be lucky to date him.

Although – and this realization came as something of a surprise – Fabian didn’t want The Ball to date some guy. Some guy didn’t deserve him. He was just – he was the best. He deserved the best. The best guy. The best player on the bloodrush team, for example, which. In a different world, maybe.

This darkened office at three am felt like a different world.

Bizarrely, Fabian found himself wondering what it would be like if he just – kissed The Ball, right here, right now. The thought came from completely out of nowhere. But… when Fabian really thought about it – as much as he could even think, in this moment – maybe it hadn’t truly come from completely out of nowhere, per se.

He’d thought about kissing before. And he’d thought about The Ball being kissed before. It wasn’t so much of a leap to think about himself kissing The Ball. Even if – even if they were both guys. Guys kissed each other all the time, really. In a romantic way, even. Fabian just hadn’t realized he – he hadn’t –

Kissing didn’t have to be romantic, did it? Sometimes people just kissed for fun. Or just to – just to know what it was like.

Fabian wanted to know what it was like.

Riz’s face was so close to his, and it was getting closer. Fabian wasn’t sure if he was leaning down or if Riz was leaning up. Maybe both. He was probably leaning down more, though. Taller people tended to have a greater range of movement in this sort of… context.

He could smell Riz’s breath. It was just a little minty, from the gum he’d been chewing earlier. And his lips were – right there. They were rather nice lips, Fabian thought. Boys’ lips didn’t even really look different from girls’ lips, especially up close. He wondered why people cared so much who they kissed. He wondered why he did.

He wondered if this meant he was bi, or gay, or something. He was surprised by how little the concept surprised him.

Was he really doing this? Was he really about to kiss Riz?

Asking himself the question seemed to snap him out of it – whatever ‘it’ was.

He felt like he’d been underwater but he was suddenly coming up for air, breathing hard, body smacked by the waves. What was he doing? He couldn’t kiss The Ball! That would be crazy!

Abruptly, he shoved The Ball away from himself – well, he didn’t actually shove, more like gently pushed, because even when he was having some kind of internal crisis he still didn’t want to be rough with The Ball. Unless The Ball, like, asked him to. Which! Why was he even thinking about that! There was something going on with his head – he wasn’t thinking properly –

“Um, I just realized I have to go home right now,” he said, already hurrying towards the door.

The Ball stared at him, crestfallen. “Wha – okay?”

“Bye!” Fabian yelled, swinging the door open.

“Wait, you left your jacket –” The door slammed shut.

Fabian raced down the stairs, two at a time, heart pounding, breath coming short and shallow.

He didn’t understand any of what had just happened, or why he’d been about to… he needed some sleep. Really badly. That was probably all it was.

&

Fabian sat on the curb at the edge of the Aguefort parking lot, dandelions curling over his bloodrush shoes.

It was an unusually cloudy September day. The silver-gray sky hung low and heavy like wet wool, washing the brick buildings and evergreen trees in wan pearlescent daylight. The air was chilly, even with Fabian’s crewneck. Stupidly, he found himself thinking about how The Ball would probably want this crewneck after he got tired of wearing it, to add to his ever-growing collection of clothes previously owned by Fabian.

He’d been avoiding The Ball all week. And, by extension, he’d been avoiding the rest of the Bad Kids, too, because they were usually all together, and The Ball had been around some or all of them most of the time – at least, as far as Fabian could tell by sneaking peeks at him from between the library stacks and from the tops of staircases.

He wasn’t sure if The Ball understood that Fabian had been about to… well. If he did… that was really embarrassing. And even if he didn’t, then Fabian had still acted strange the other night, and he couldn’t think of any method of explaining himself that didn’t paint him in a truly absurd light. So either way, he just didn’t want to talk to The Ball. Maybe so much time would pass that The Ball would forget who he was, and he could reintroduce himself and they could start all over again. That would be nice, for a few different reasons.

Fabian wondered if other teenagers discussed things like this with their parents. Fabian had never talked to his mother about anything as personal as… feelings. At this point, he wasn’t even sure how he would begin a conversation like that.

And his father… Well, he couldn’t talk to his father about anything anymore.

But if his father were still alive… Fabian wasn’t even sure what he would say to him, about what was going on with him. ‘Excuse me, Papa, do you remember my friend The Ball? The other night I really wanted to kiss him and I don’t know why I wanted to do that and now I feel weird even being around him and the whole thing is making me question everything I thought was true about myself and undermine my faith that I’m becoming the person I want to be.’

Yeah, no. That wouldn’t fly. His father would probably advise him to go kill some wargs and then tell an anecdote about having sex with a fire genasi princess on top of a volcano or something.

Fabian really, really, really wished he wanted to do those things. It had been so much easier to believe his father when his father was… there. Now that he was by himself, it was so difficult to make sense of much of anything anymore, not least his father’s advice.

His father wouldn’t have understood all that stuff about… The Ball. It just wasn’t… His father hadn’t viewed him as the sort of boy who would think, or feel, or do… any of that.

Which only made Fabian feel worse. And when he felt bad he didn’t want anyone to see him, because the bad feelings were like a nasty soup stain on his shirt, or an unflattering dye job, or a regrettable face tattoo – he was usually so confident, and when he wasn’t, it was so obvious. To him, anyway. Other people didn’t actually get a look at him when he wasn’t confident, because he. Did this.

Eating lunch alone on the curb.

He tried to think about Aelwen. It was hard to remember, though, what her face even looked like. He ended up just picturing Adaine in a wig, which – ew.

It really had been a long time since he’d seen her. The only time he’d seen her.

He didn’t want to admit that maybe… everyone was right. Maybe he didn’t really love her.

But… love was a choice, wasn’t it? He chose to love his mother, even though she didn’t do any of the things that… other mothers did. Comforting, and such. He didn’t actually know, really, what other mothers did, but – his friends told stories about their mothers, and he had no stories to tell about his.

He chose to love his father, too. Even though – even though he worried, sometimes, that he didn’t deserve to love Bill Seacaster. Not like a son.

He sighed heavily. Here he was, alone in the parking lot, making himself too sad to finish his sandwich. This was the worst.

He heard footsteps on the sidewalk and quickly straightened his spine so that whoever-it-was wouldn’t notice that he was… whatever-he-was.

“Fabian, are you really just sitting out here by yourself? That’s so dumb.”

Fig sat down next to him, sticking her legs out on the asphalt. Her boots were so clunky that they made her feet look bigger than his. She lit a cigarette and offered it to him, and he waved her off.

“I just needed some air,” he said. Which was stupid, and he knew it.

“That’s stupid,” she remarked. He couldn’t blame her.

She blew out smoke. “Is it because you’re mad at Riz? Riz thinks you’re mad at him but he can’t figure out why. It’s really stressing him out, you know.”

Fabian felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He folded his arms over his knees. “I’m not mad at him, I just… don’t want to talk to him right now.”

Her black-painted lips twisted skeptically. “That kind of makes it sound like you, like, actually are mad at him. What did he do? Was he too overbearing with the whole ‘best friend’ thing? I warned him about that, you know.”

“No, it’s not – it’s fine. He didn’t do anything wrong. Really.”

A slow grin spread over her face. “Oh my god, Fabian, are you finally acknowledging that you and Riz really are best friends? Took you fucking long enough! You should let Riz know, he’ll be over the moon. He’ll probably throw a party.”

She started cackling. “God, can you imagine a Riz party? He would probably have all the lights on, and play, like, swing music.”

Fabian cracked a smile despite himself, eyes still cast down to the pavement. “Does he really think I’m mad at him?”

Fig nodded, expression sobering. “Yeah. If you aren’t, you should tell him that. He’s tying himself in knots trying to figure out where he screwed up. He lo – he likes you, like, so much, you know. I mean, you have to know that, don’t you?”

Fabian nodded mutely. It was one of the things he knew but refused to let himself know. One of many, many things. He couldn’t recall the others right now, because he was doing a better job of preventing himself from knowing them.

Fig slung her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Fabian. What’s got ya so down?”

What got him so down? Where to begin?

“Aelwen,” he said, because it was sort of true. Sort of.

“I miss her.” And he sort of did. In a way. He missed her like a drowning man missed sailing.

Fig tilted her head. She bit her lip piercing, giving him a considering look. “Do you really miss her that much?”

He felt a short flash of anger. Strange, stale anger – the type he was forgetting how to feel. Then he sighed, and it was gone. “Yeah,” he said. Even he wasn’t sure if he was lying.

Fig wrapped her arm tighter around his shoulders and squeezed him against her side. “Oh, Fabian. When will you wake up and smell the roses?”

He wrinkled his nose. Partly because of her cigarette. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Someday you’ll look back on this conversation and understand,” she replied cryptically, taking another hit of her clove.

“Okay, weirdo.”

He felt a little better now. It was nice not being completely alone. Even though he’d been certain he wanted that.

He took a bite of his sandwich. He was okay. He was going to be okay.

&

Fabian continued avoiding The Ball. He didn’t know why, and he certainly didn’t want to try to figure it out. It felt like… touching an open wound.

The Ball stopped showing up on the bleachers to wait for him after bloodrush practice. Fabian went straight home afterwards, alone on the Hangman. He told himself he didn’t care.

He did care. He didn’t want to, though.

Fabian discovered during this period that most of the times when he’d previously run into The Ball, it had been because The Ball actively sought him out. Now that The Ball wasn’t seeking him out anymore, they never saw each other. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Bad, perhaps, would be a word for it.

Fabian still ran into his other friends, – in the corridors between classes, in the parking lot as he dismounted the Hangman. He saw Gorgug in bloodrush, of course. Sometimes they called and texted him, too.

Gorgug called him late on a Saturday night as he lay on top of his bed pretending to do homework, wearing his sleep tank top and boxers. Fabian stared at the ringing crystal for a long moment before deciding to pick up.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Gorgug. It was just that he barely felt like a person these days, and talking on the phone was the sort of thing that you did when you were… a person.

“Hey, Gorgug, what’s up?”

“Hey, Fabian! So, you remember the party at Ostentatia’s tonight, yeah?”

“The… what?”

“The – the party at her house? We texted you about it, like, a lot. We just assumed you were reading the messages and not responding.”

Fabian pulled his crystal away from his face to look at his mailbox app. One-hundred-seventeen unread messages. Sixty-four of them from Riz Gukgak.

He held the crystal back up to his ear. “Oh, no, I think they weren’t being delivered… I should check that my data plan is up to date.”

Gorgug made a sympathetic noise. “Oh dang, really? Well – there’s a party at Ostentatia’s tonight! It’s a surprise for Riz, because he solved his case!”

Fabian’s chest roiled with a bizarre combination of feelings. Pride over The Ball and his detective work. Sadness that he hadn’t been around to find out about his accomplishment. Anger and shame, because it was his own damn fault.

“Oh – cool.”

“Yeah! So I was going to pick him up from his office, but it turns out my parents need the car for game night, which – I probably should’ve like, asked before tonight, but whatever. No one else can pick him up, so we were hoping you could do it. Can you… can you do it?”

Fabian didn’t say anything for a while.

“Uh… Fabian? Are you still there? Did your data plan like, end the call or something?”

“Yeah, no, I’m still here. Uh, sure. I can pick him up. Right now?”

“Yeah, as soon as possible would be great. And I was going to bring him flowers, too, because… it was kind of a dangerous case, and he went off to solve it by himself, and he’s pretty shaken up, so I thought flowers would cheer him up. Can you bring him some flowers?”

“Yeah, I’ll find some,” Fabian said automatically. The mention of The Ball being ‘shaken up’ had galvanized him into action, and he was already getting up off the bed, pulling on pants. Why did The Ball have to do so much detective work by himself? Didn’t he realize his friends cared about him and wanted to help him? He could be so stupid sometimes. Fabian immediately felt terrible for even thinking that, because The Ball wasn’t really stupid – he was the smartest person Fabian had ever met.

He was also the kindest person Fabian had ever met, and the funniest, and the bravest, and the – and the cutest. Which was so – dumb. But it was true. And if anything ever happened to him, Fabian – he just – he would just – he wouldn’t be okay. At all. No one would. The world wouldn’t. The world barely deserved Riz Gukgak, and it had no right to waste the privilege of having him.

“Hey, I’m going to pick up Riz, talk to you later, Gorgug,” Fabian said, not really paying attention because he was busy rummaging through his drawer for the keys to the Hangman.

“Aww, that’s sweet that you call him Riz now.”

“Hmm, what was that?” Fabian leaned away from the crystal. “Hey Gilear!” he yelled downstairs. “Get me a bouquet of flowers, asap! If you screw it up I’ll beat your ass!”

“Yes, Master Fabian,” echoed from downstairs.

He wedged the crystal between his shoulder and ear as he hurried downstairs. “What were you saying? Before?”

“Oh, nothing. See you soon!”

“Kay, bye.” He slid his crystal into his pocket as he grabbed his helmet.

&

Twenty minutes later, Fabian was banging his fist on the door to The Ball’s office, bouquet in one hand, yelling, “The Ball! The Ball! Please come out of there, it’s important!”

The Ball finally, finally opened the door. When he saw Fabian, his face rapidly cycled through an almost comically diverse array of emotions. “Fabian! What – flowers?”

Fabian looked down at the flowers. “Oh, yeah, these are for you.” He shoved them at The Ball.

The Ball looked deeply confused. “What… for?”

Fabian didn’t bother answering him. He was busy scanning The Ball’s body for visible signs of injury. He couldn’t see any bruises or scars or bandages. The Ball did look a bit tired, but that wasn’t all that different from the usual. He drank far too much caffeine for his tiny body to handle. Fabian leaned close to inspect the dark circles under The Ball’s eyes, and The Ball backed away from him, even more confused than before.

“What’s going on, Fabian? Are you – I thought you were mad at me.” The Ball’s expression turned sad, which hurt Fabian to look at.

Reflexively, he reached for The Ball, the way he always did when he thought The Ball might lose his balance. But The Ball wasn’t about to lose his balance – not physically. He just – he looked sad, and Fabian wanted to fix it.

He pulled The Ball into a hug, because that made the most sense in the moment. “I’m sorry for being a dick,” he muttered. “I wasn’t mad at you, I was just… being a dick.”

The Ball laid his hands on Fabian’s back – one of them still clutching the bouquet – and Fabian felt him nod against his chest.

“It’s all right, Fabian. I mean, you were kind of a dick. You still are.”

Fabian felt him smile, and his anxiety ratcheted down several notches. If calling him a dick made The Ball smile, Fabian would take it.

“But I forgive you. Now – what are these flowers for? Are you just that sorry?”

There was something weird in his voice, almost like – hope.

“They were Gorgug’s idea,” Fabian explained.

“Oh…”

“He said… he said you went off to solve the case by yourself.” Fabian pushed The Ball away from him so he could see his face. And cup it in his hands. And look right into his eyes and make sure he wasn’t still sad.

“The Ball, why the fuck would you do that? That’s so dangerous! What if you – what if something happened to you? I would never – you need to have friends around, you know, when you do stuff like that. To keep you safe.”

The Ball smiled, a genuine, sweet, happy smile, and all of Fabian’s internal organs performed a simultaneous gymnastic routine. Which was strange. But not necessarily… unexpected. Anymore.

“I know, Fabian. I should’ve brought people with me. I don’t always – I don’t always think about that. I guess it’s good I have you here to remind me.”

Fabian felt an absurd urge to, like, kiss him on the forehead, or something, so he very quickly let go of his face and turned towards the door. “Well. Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s… I’m taking you somewhere. Come on, come outside to the Hangman.”

The Ball carefully laid the flowers on his desk and followed Fabian out the door, locking it behind them. “Um… where are you taking me?” he asked. He sounded excited.

Fabian’s confidence matched The Ball’s mood. He felt more like himself than he had in days. He glanced at The Ball over his shoulder and winked roguishly. The Ball made a face like he’d just won the lottery, a free vacation to the destination of his choice, and every literary and scientific prize in Solace all at once. He almost tripped over his own feet on the way to the stairs and Fabian automatically held out an arm for him to grab onto.

&

Fabian could tell The Ball had been hoping for – he didn’t know what. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been a party at Ostentatia’s place. Belatedly, it occurred to him that The Ball probably didn’t associate pleasant memories with that location.

It hadn’t been as bad for Fabian. Obviously. But now… he was more aware, now, of how The Ball might react to things, and how it might be different from the way Fabian reacted. The last time he’d been at the house, he’d only been thinking about Aelwen. Now he could only think about The Ball. It was funny how life changed.

The Ball smiled and greeted his friends as they walked in, accepting their praise and their hugs and their cake. But as the night wore on and the lighting got darker and the music louder and the party guests tipsier, Fabian lost sight of him.

He saw Aelwen in every room. Not literally. Not even – he didn’t even see a mental image of her. Just a shadow. A silhouette. The place where a person used to be. Where a person used to matter.

He made a game of it. He took a swallow of beer every time he thought of her. Not her, rather – the space she’d once occupied. He wondered how long he’d been thinking about that space and pretending she was still in it. Pretending that she’d ever been in it.

He wasn’t drunk, but he was… dreamy. His feet glided over the floor. Faces blended together. Everything he’d constructed around himself fell away, and he was just… open.

He wanted to find Riz. He felt stripped of everything but his true desires, and that one rang even truer than the rest.

He wandered through purple-lit rooms, listening to laughter and pounding music, looking for Riz. Where was he? He didn’t know why, but he understood intrinsically that being near Riz was important. So important that even questioning it would be gratuitous and silly.

Fabian finally found Riz sitting by the swimming pool in the back garden. It was hot and humid out, the air thick with overripe summer and the distant chirp of cicadas, and the sky was dark as pitch and faintly star-studded – the main source of light was the turquoise glow of the swimming pool itself.

In this moment and in this place, Riz truly looked like something magical and otherworldly. The aqua light and summer night shadow painted contours onto his face that Fabian had never noticed before. He didn’t know how he’d never noticed before, because he was always, always looking at Riz. How had he never realized how much he looked at Riz?

He definitely couldn’t stop looking at him now. He felt crazy. He walked over to the edge of the pool like a man in a trance, sitting next to him and drinking him in with his eyes like he’d been parched his whole life and Riz was the only water in the world. Riz’s mouth moved in the shape of words but Fabian didn’t know what they were because – Riz’s mouth. He was looking at that now. His upper lip was slightly fuller than his lower lip. How had he never noticed that before?

And then Fabian realized that he had noticed it before – so many times. He’d just hidden all those memories somewhere but now they were out and they were spilling everywhere, overflowing, because all the barriers he’d built were gone and he was adrift, sinking fast, underwater. “You’re so beautiful, Riz,” he heard his mouth say, exactly as he thought it. No barriers.

Riz’s eyes widened, and they were such a warm green-gold and Fabian wanted to disappear into them. Riz’s mouth opened slightly and now Fabian was looking at that again. “Did I say the wrong thing…?” he heard himself say. Softer than he’d ever said anything before. He was usually so loud. Why was he so loud?

“No, you didn’t say the wrong thing, Fabian,” Riz was saying, very quietly, almost awestruck, and hearing him say his name in that fragile and reverent tone was almost too much. He felt crazy. He was sinking faster, faster. Underwater.

Their faces were so close together. How had they become so close? Fabian could smell Riz’s shampoo, and it was his fairly standard drugstore men’s shampoo smell but for some reason it was making Fabian absolutely lose his mind. What if I kissed him right now, he thought – apropos of nothing, seemingly, and yet it felt like the logical answer to everything that had ever happened to him in his entire life, a prophecy coming true, the natural narrative of a legend he’d heard thousands and thousands of times. And somehow he must’ve missed the transition between that thought and the action that followed it because all of a sudden he was kissing Riz.

It kind of, maybe, felt like the best decision he’d ever made in his entire life. Maybe the only good one he’d ever made. There were currents of sensation washing through his body at lightning speed and he was sinking fast – no, now he was diving, so deep underwater that he thought he might be drowning but he knew instinctively that he belonged here because kissing Riz was so… real. He felt real. Riz was real. And he needed more, more, more.

He surged forward, pushing against him hungrily and now Riz was clutching his shoulders like he was holding on for dear life and he could smell the shampoo even more than before and it was making him feel even crazier and he needed so much more so badly and so he opened his mouth and Riz opened his mouth too and he could feel Riz’s tongue sliding against his tongue and Riz’s body felt so small but powerful in his hands like a bombshell, and he was guiding him down onto his back and holding himself over him, kissing harder and deeper like it was the last chance he’d get.

He realized at some point, maybe several minutes or several thousand years later, that he needed to breathe, and so he broke away with a wet popping noise, sucking in air, but he couldn’t handle the thought of bringing his face too far away from Riz’s face because if there was too much space between them then the moment would end, so he rested his nose alongside Riz’s nose, their eyelashes almost brushing, just far enough apart to see each other’s eyes.

Riz was lying on the concrete, unruly dark green curls spread out behind his head, one hand gripping the curve of Fabian’s shoulder and the other wrapped around his neck, fingers carding through his hair, which felt unbelievably good. One of his legs was hitched high around Fabian’s hips, ankle digging into his tailbone, which Fabian needed to stop thinking about because, well. He was desperately, painfully turned on and even in his impassioned haze he didn’t want to have a potentially embarrassing bodily reaction – even though he could feel that Riz was turned on, too.

Riz seemed to lose patience and began moving again, needily running his hands along Fabian’s spine and mouthing at the tender skin below his jaw and shifting his lower body in a way that was – potentially embarrassing, for Fabian. “Riz…” he muttered, and hearing his own name seemed to heighten Riz’s enthusiasm by several notches.

He felt crazy. Unable to hold himself up anymore, he rolled onto his back and pulled Riz on top of him, which Riz seemed to like because his hand dug harder into Fabian’s side and his fingers scraped Fabian’s scalp and he sucked on Fabian’s neck with even more gusto than before.

Fabian was still very much enjoying this. All of him, not just his… pelvic region. Making out with Riz and touching him felt so good and so right in a way that very few things ever had in his life. He felt like… himself. This was the real Fabian, here with the real Riz. It occurred to him that the real Fabian wasn’t around very often, which was strange to think.

But then everything that it meant to be Fabian Aramais Seacaster started to catch up with him and the real Fabian began to shutter away. This had happened before, of course. But now, for possibly the first time ever, Fabian realized that he wasn’t waiting for it or hoping for it. He didn’t want to stop being the person he was right now, with Riz. The real Fabian.

Fabian slowly sat up, which moved Riz into a straddled position on his lap. Riz seemed to sense the shift in Fabian’s mood and began slowing down, kissing lightly along the curve of his jaw and up his cheek and over his bad eye. He was still touching Fabian on his waist and the side of his head, but he was doing so in such a careful way that it almost hurt – not because Fabian didn’t like it, but because of how he loved it so much. Fabian sighed softly and Riz kissed the corner of his mouth, so tender it nearly wasn’t a kiss. Instinctively he nuzzled into the side of Riz’s neck, inhaling his comforting scent.

This was almost more intimate than the urgent, heated making out from before, because Fabian could feel every ounce of the emotion in Riz’s touch, and quite a lot of Riz was touching Fabian right now, and his body was built small and wiry but his emotions were big. Bigger than Fabian had ever comprehended before now.

Riz huffed a soft almost-nervous almost-laugh as Fabian met his eyes again, his breath mingling with Fabian’s, and he rested his forehead against Fabian’s forehead. His index finger gently followed the edge of Fabian’s pointed ear, the arc of his eyebrow. Quietly – so quietly that Fabian could only hear it because of how close they were – he murmured, “I’ve been waiting for so long for this.” He practically exhaled it into Fabian’s mouth – that was how close they were. They were blending into the same being.

Riz’s face was that warm lime color that goblins became when they were flushed, and his eyes were wide and dark and his lips were slick with saliva – probably Fabian’s saliva. Fabian didn’t know how to process what Riz had just said to him and he was also still hopelessly turned on and hazy with intimacy and the only thing that made sense in the moment was to just firmly cup Riz’s face with one hand and pull him hard into another kiss. Riz didn’t seem to have any issue with that.

They kissed slowly this time, Riz winding both of his arms all the way around Fabian’s neck and pressing his body impossibly close all along the front of Fabian’s torso, and Fabian held onto him so tightly and kissed him deeper, deeper. Underwater.

It felt extraordinarily good and they were both teenage boys, so it didn’t take long for things to start to feel urgent again. Heat built in Fabian’s chest. He was kissing Riz’s neck now, and Riz’s skin tasted clean and a little salty and he was frantically grasping at the back of Fabian’s head and breathing fast and heavy into Fabian’s ear in a way that made him feel even more crazy.

But also – now he was more awake and more aware of what he was doing. He was swimming up to the surface again, struggling to stay afloat, yearning to go back under.

Very carefully, Fabian removed his mouth from Riz’s collarbone and extricated himself from Riz’s embrace. He picked Riz up and lifted him off his lap, which, as it turned out, might have been counterproductive because Riz seemed to really like being picked up, at least if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Riz reached desperately to grab at Fabian’s shoulders as Fabian set him on the concrete, clearly craving another kiss.

The real Fabian very much wanted to give Riz what he was looking for. But the real Fabian was drifting somewhere in the open ocean now, and he needed to get back to his raft.

Fabian stood on shaky legs. Riz watched him from his seated position, bathed in the turquoise swimming pool light, clothes rumpled, hair a mess, looking vaguely confused but also very just-been-kissed.

Fabian inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Get a grip, get a grip. Swim up.

“I have to go,” he forced himself to say, the words coming out stilted and abrupt.

The Ball blinked slowly, mouth slightly open, evidently not mentally functioning at one hundred percent. “…What?”

It was all Fabian could do not to just drop to his knees and kiss him again. But he had to go. He had to leave. “I just… I have to…” he trailed off, turning away, walking back towards the house before he could second-guess himself, refusing to allow himself to look back at The Ball sitting alone at the edge of the swimming pool.

He was drowning. He couldn’t breathe. Where was his raft?

He couldn’t even recall her name right now.

&

Fabian lay on his living room floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he’d been doing this. Maybe an hour. Maybe several hours.

He didn’t want to think about what had happened last night. But everything he did just made him think about it more, and the only thing that made sense was simply to try and think about nothing at all. It almost worked.

There were hickeys on his neck. He’d dressed in his baggiest hoodie and avoided the mirror all day. It was hard to ignore the phantom feeling of tiny hands running all over him, though, or of a wiry phantom body pinned beneath his, or of phantom eyes gazing at him with phantom adoration so potent it felt tangible.

As if through a heavy fog, he heard someone knocking on the door. He continued to lie there and listen to it passively for a minute or so, and then slowly, mechanically, he picked himself up off the carpet and shuffled over to the foyer. Where the hell was Cathilda? He remembered she’d gone with Gilear to pick up skincare items for his mother. Ah.

He opened the door slowly and creakily, haunted-house style.

The Ball was standing on the porch, because of course he was. And he looked. So good. His hair was combed, and he’d shaved – he barely needed to shave, as far as Fabian was aware, but his face did look a bit cleaner without the peach fuzz. He was dressed in neat slacks with the hems cuffed and a collared shirt buttoned all the way up to the chin, which was probably because – Fabian’s stomach flipped over – he also had hickeys. That were put there by Fabian.

This realization made Fabian immediately want to surge forward and gather him up in his arms and bring him upstairs to his room to do all sorts of dastardly things to him. For a moment, he let himself visualize it, and then he shut the door on that thought. He didn’t literally shut the door, because The Ball was still standing there and he didn’t want to be rude.

As soon as The Ball saw Fabian, a huge, enamored smile spread across his face like a sunrise. He made a noise that tangentially sounded like “hi” and stretched up on his tip-toes to kiss Fabian on the cheek, except he was so short that he could still only reach Fabian’s neck. Fabian deliberately hadn’t leaned down to make it easier for him, but against his will he found himself feeling endeared by the effort and also a little… intrigued by the brief sensation of The Ball’s lips on his neck.

The Ball stood close in front of him, staring up at him expectantly with so much open, hopeful happiness on his face that Fabian concentrated his gaze on the tip of The Ball’s left ear in order to stay sane.

He was clearly waiting for Fabian to say something. But the only things Fabian had to say were things that he knew would ruin that beautiful, happy expression, and he didn’t want to say them. Not yet.

He stepped backwards from The Ball just a little bit, resolutely ignoring the faint disappointment that flickered across his face. Here he was, disappointing The Ball. He’d never thought that would happen, but everything changed so fast, didn’t it?

He cleared his throat. “Um. How are you doing, The Ball?”

“Much better now that I’m with you,” The Ball answered, slightly breathlessly. Which was such a corny thing to say, and Fabian hated his very teenage heart for skipping a beat anyway.

“Besides,” The Ball continued, stepping towards Fabian. “I thought my name was Riz now. Isn’t it?”

Fabian gulped. The look in his eyes was really… Fabian needed to focus. Focus. Swim up.

“Um… what? What are you talking about?” he asked dumbly, mentally slamming his head against the wall.

The Ball looked confused. And a little hurt. “Um, you… do you not… remember?”

Fabian couldn’t stop remembering, in fact. But he wasn’t going to say that. There was no way he could say that.

Because the only time he’d glanced in the mirror that day – that morning, after waking up – he’d seen his father’s face.

His father was – his father had been – a captain. A pirate. A hero. Heroes commanded and controlled their crew, their respect and their fear and their love. They were strong. Unafraid. Invulnerable. They sailed across the seven seas and they spun the wheel with a confidence that came naturally and they climbed the topsails and they certainly never, not once, fell overboard.

Fabian had been overboard for months. His father was gone. His ship was gone. He had no way of getting home, no sense of where home even was.

His only hope was to stay afloat and keep swimming until he… until he became a captain of his own. Until he had a ship, too. He was waiting for it. It happened to heroes, he thought. They fought hard enough and long enough and survived enough trials and slayed enough monsters and then they became who they were supposed to be.

Here was something he was terrified to let himself think: he didn’t, in fact, know for sure that he was a hero. The logic didn’t always follow. The prophecy didn’t always come true. The legend didn’t always end the way he thought it would.

And so he did the things that heroes did, because that was how he was going to become a hero. A hero like his father. His father had probably been born heroic, but Fabian had been discovering, increasingly, that he’d been born… he didn’t know what. Something else. However, if you told a lie ten thousand times it was almost true. If he pretended to be Fabian Aramais Seacaster ten thousand times, then maybe, eventually… he wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. He’d just. Be. The hero his father had wanted him to be. Believed he would be. Believed he was.

And what did heroes do? Not that. Not what Fabian did.

Heroes got the girl. And they weren’t shy. They didn’t – they didn’t – they were tough, not tender, and they weren’t – they wouldn’t have kissed Riz, and they certainly wouldn’t have closed their eyes and let themselves feel so safe in his arms, as if they were – no.

Fabian knew what his body wanted. He knew what his heart wanted. He knew what the real Fabian wanted.

But he also knew who Fabian Aramais Seacaster needed to be.

And so he swam up even as his lungs cried out in agony.

“Listen, The Ball…” Fabian began, the words sounding like someone else was saying them out of his mouth. The Ball’s face fell as he seemed to sense where this was going, and Fabian felt like he was going to throw up. Funny how the tables turned like that.

The Ball stepped away from him onto the porch, stumbling just slightly. Fabian checked the urge to reach out and keep him from falling. “Yeah?” he said, voice very small.

“I just… last night I was, you know, a little tipsy, and I did things that I, ah… shouldn’t have. If you understand what I’m saying.”

Fabian couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes.

The Ball didn’t say anything at all for an achingly long moment.

Finally, Fabian heard: “Yeah. I. I think I. Do. Understand.” His voice was even smaller than Fabian had thought possible.

“So, just… if we could forget that any of… that. Ever happened. Because, listen to me, The Ball, you have to understand… I just… Aelwen, you know, and…” Fabian stammered, feeling desperate.

He finally met The Ball’s eyes in time to see something dark flash across his miserable face. So miserable it very nearly physically hurt to look at. Fabian thought maybe it actually did physically hurt, just a little bit.

“Oh. Aelwen.”

Fabian braced his arm against the doorframe, mostly to keep himself from falling over. The Ball stared up at his arm with something almost like contempt. Which Fabian hated seeing on him. He hated it so much.

“Yeah, so… if you could just…”

The Ball turned away, shoulders hunched. “I get it. I’ll just go.”

Fabian didn’t want him to go. He wanted him to stay. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted it so much it ached. He felt like he might truly, genuinely, actually die if Riz walked away from him right now.

“Yes. You should go,” said Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

Heroes survived everything.

The Ball didn’t say goodbye. Fabian didn’t even see which direction he went – he was just. Gone. He was stealthy like that.

Fabian closed the door.

He walked back to the living room.

He laid on the floor. And he stared at the ceiling.

And he didn’t move, even though he was drowning.

&

The next time someone knocked on the door, it was probably the next day. Or maybe a few days later. A week? Fabian wasn’t sure. It was hard to keep track of time when he wasn’t changing his clothes periodically.

It occurred to him that he was… hungry? Or sad? Sad made sense. He was probably hungry, too. He hadn’t been doing much lately besides lying on the floor. Cathilda thought he was undergoing some kind of sensory deprivation thing, like his mother.

Fabian walked over to the door, zombie-like, and opened it. It was so heavy. It likely just felt heavy because he was so exhausted and not up to his usual strength levels. He should eat something, maybe.

He barely had a chance to register the fact that Adaine was standing there before she started shouting at him.

“Fabian! What is wrong with you?” she yelled.

He reeled back in shock as if she’d slapped him. His mental functioning wasn’t great right now, so he was struggling to understand what was happening. He also thought the situation was possibly just confusing to begin with.

“…What?”

Her face softened slightly. “Are you okay?”

He frowned, even more confused.

She sighed exasperatedly. “You can answer that. Just know that I’m still mad at you.”

He started to say yes, but… he didn’t even have the energy to lie right now.

“Not really,” he answered, voice tired.

She nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. “Okay, thanks for being honest. You haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.” Her face hardened again. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Why are you… mad at me?”

“Did you not see my messages? All of them?”

Hazily, it occurred to him that his crystal had been dead for… a long time. “No.”

She folded her arms, huffing in frustration. “Well… you have to know why I’m mad at you.”

He didn’t think he did. “I don’t think I do.”

She just glared at him. He stared back impassively. Birds chirped faintly in the distance. It was evening, he realized. It had probably been a school day. It was probably one of at least two school days that he’d missed.

“Is it because of Riz?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course it’s because of Riz, you jackass. What else would it be about?” she asked incredulously. She was yelling again. Fabian looked down at his feet, shameful.

“He’s been crying for days, you know. Not all the time, but he goes into the bathroom and cries during lunch, and sometimes he even gets up in class to go cry in the stairwell. He solved his case, you know, and he isn’t even proud of it because he’s just been so miserable. It’s terrible to witness. Where have you been, by the way? You might’ve known about this if you’d been around.”

Fabian decided to ignore the first part of what she’d said. He’d heard it, certainly, but it had been very, very painful to listen to and thinking about it was even more painful and he wasn’t sure how much pain he could handle before he physically collapsed.

“I’ve been… here,” he croaked, gesturing half-heartedly towards the living room.

Adaine appraised him. “You look terrible, you know.”

He didn’t even have the energy to argue with her. He just shrugged. He knew was wearing the same hoodie he’d been wearing when… the last time someone had come to the door. He hadn’t showered, either, so his hair was somehow simultaneously dried-out and greasy and he also likely didn’t smell too pleasant.

“Would you happen to know what Riz has been crying about, Fabian?” Adaine asked, raising her eyebrows. Unimpressed.

“…I don’t know,” Fabian said. He did know. He concentrated hard on the wood grain of the porch.

“Yes, you do,” Adaine said, somehow even less impressed than before. “Look, I don’t know exactly happened between you two. Riz refuses to admit that you hurt him or did anything wrong – he keeps saying it was all a misunderstanding and he just ‘thought the wrong thing,’ whatever the fuck that’s even supposed to mean. But you know what, Fabian?” She said his name with so much venom that he winced.

“Riz isn’t dumb. He’s actually very smart. He’s insightful and clever and very good at figuring out what’s going on. And if I had to guess, I’d say that whatever he ‘thought’ was actually completely correct, and you’re the one who fucked things up somehow by being a dick. And you know what else?”

Fabian opened his mouth to say something – although he didn’t know what – but Adaine was already building up a head of steam. “You know what else, Fabian? I’m not even mad anymore over you being obsessed with Aelwen. I was furious at first, but a lot of time has gone by and a lot of things have happened and I’m over it now. But I’m mad at you now for a different reason, and it’s because everyone knows how Riz feels about you, and I think you do too even though you’re balls deep in denial about it –”

“What are you talking about?” Fabian interrupted.

“Oh, cut the crap, Fabian,” Adaine scoffed. “He’s in love with you. You utter. Fucking. Idiot. I mean, I can’t imagine why, but he is. And I think you’re in love with him too but you’re even more balls deep in denial about that, but I think you know the truth, somewhere far inside that extremely thick skull of yours.

“And I’m not mad at you for wanting to get with my sister anymore because I’ve realized now that you don’t actually want to get with her, you want to get with Riz, and you’re refusing to act on that feeling and I won’t pretend to understand you well enough to know why, but you need to fucking get your shit together and stop that because you’re making literally everyone miserable, including you but especially him. And I may be mad at you right now but I know that deep down in that empty space in your chest where most people have a heart, you really do want to make Riz happy. You’ve royally fucked that up but I think you can still fix it if you act fast.”

Fabian was struggling to process all of the. Things. That she’d just said. His head was spinning. The only response he could manage, for some reason, was, “I do too have a heart!”

Adaine rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “Then prove it, asshole.”

Still feeling like he was in some kind of bizarre dream, he closed the door and started towards the Hangman in his socks.

Adaine hurried after him, grabbing him by the hood of his sweatshirt. “No, you fucking – take a shower first! And put on something nice! You have to make a good impression for God’s sake, this is key!”

Fabian stopped. “Oh. Yeah.” He should probably have a big meal, too. But he had to eat fast. He still hadn’t fully processed the situation but he did understand that time was of the essence. The longer he delayed, the longer Riz spent being sad. He’d already wasted so much time. Several days – maybe several months, if he was really honest with himself. Maybe even longer.

How long had Riz been in love with him? How long had he been in love with Riz? If you told a lie ten thousand times it was almost true, but only almost. The real truth was still there, down deep, unchanging. He’d been swimming away from it. It was so exhausting, treading water for years and years. Who was he, really? Where was the real Fabian? Down there. It was time to go to him. Forget the ship, forget the unknown shore, and especially forget the fucking raft. He didn’t need any of it.

His father had never fallen overboard, because he didn’t belong in the deep.

Fabian was different, though, wasn’t he? It had always been true. The lies had never worked.

He wasn’t his father. Maybe he wasn’t even a hero – at least, not the sort of hero he’d always thought he was. Maybe there were lots of different kinds of heroes, although he didn’t know what any of them were.

He had time to figure it out, he supposed. Forgoing one’s destiny frees up a lot of afternoons.

His name was Fabian, and he knew he was a hero. Even now. Perhaps now he knew it more fundamentally than he ever had before in his life – it was a logical syllogism that suddenly made sense, a prophecy that came true in a way no one expected, a legend that he wrote and rewrote with every breath he drew. He could tell by his sword and the way it kept his friends safe, slaying the monsters that threatened them and fighting dangerous battles on their behalf. He knew by his feet and the paths they walked through Aguefort and Elmville, drawing lines across the map between his favorite places, his favorite people. And his hands – he’d touched the boy he loved with those hands.

He couldn’t do magic like Adaine and Fig and Kristen, but his power was within his heart, etched in the words he spoke, entangled with his innermost emotions, intrinsic. He was a hero because he chose to be. How could he not, when he finally split open his chest and unleashed everything he’d been hiding, packing into smaller compartments, trying and failing to destroy?

He knew he was a hero because he wanted to be one. Heroes protected their loved ones and expected nothing in return, and they still garnered notoriety and glory because of the good deeds they did and the care with which they did them. They strived to be good and to grow from their mistakes. They journeyed far and wide and learned all about the world but they always came home to the arms in which they belonged. They were loved.

And – perhaps most importantly, at least to Fabian’s very teenage heart – they fell in love, too, and if they were lucky, they got a kiss. Maybe even – if they were really, really, really, really, really lucky – a second kiss.

He rushed back inside the mansion and wolfed down a cold sandwich from the fridge as he hastily pulled off his hoodie. He barely heard Adaine screech, “Oh my god, look at the size of that hickey!” as he bounded upstairs and hurled himself into the shower.

After scrubbing himself down and washing his hair faster than he remembered ever doing it – he was a ‘long, luxuriant shower’ type of person, typically – he pulled on fresh underwear and joggers and a tank top and his cleanest letterman jacket. He glanced at his reflection in the steamy mirror and thought about styling his hair. It would take a few more minutes. But – Adaine had said Riz was in love with him, hadn’t she? If Riz really did still love him even after Fabian had broken his heart, the quality of his hair probably wouldn’t change his mind. Then again, he had broken his heart. Styling his hair was probably the absolute least he could do to help his sorry case.

When he came downstairs ten minutes later, Adaine flashed him a withering look from the sofa. “Did you really style your hair? Really? Now?”

“Riz chose the hottest guy at Aguefort and he’s going to get exactly what he chose,” Fabian said archly. He paused mid-stride as he headed towards the door. “Wait, do you need a ride home?”

“Yeah, that would be great, actually,” Adaine admitted, getting up to follow him. “I really don’t want to be around if things go well and you take him back here.”

Fabian almost tripped over air. He hadn’t even thought about what would happen if things went well – he’d been so focused on preventing them from going poorly. He wondered, briefly, if he should change into a nicer pair of underwear just in case. No, that was stupid. He had to go.

He drove Adaine home. Then he drove to Riz’s office. The windows were dark and the door was locked – empty.

He drove to Strongtower Luxury Apartments. No one home.

He tried Basrar’s, in case Riz had felt compelled to go for a prolonged after-school sad-ice-cream sesh. No dice.

He even tried Aguefort, but there was no AV Club meeting today. The only person he found on campus was Hargis going over lines in the theater building, and he said he’d already seen Riz leave.

The sun was setting. It would be dark soon.

Fabian leaned against the Hangman in the Aguefort parking lot as red-gold light and the long shadows of trees stretched across the worn pavement.

He sighed heavily and tried not to cry. And then he realized that he was just about done trying not to cry, ever, and what was even the point of that, anyway?

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he lowered his face into his hands, chest heaving with a sob. He remembered when Fig and Kristen had tried to convince Ragh to let himself cry after Coach Daybreak had died, and he laughed. Just a little. Emotions were so strange.

“Master… what is wrong? Can I do something… to help you?” The Hangman growled.

“Hangman, I need to find my true love,” Fabian sniffled.

“Master, your beloved Aelwen is across the Celestine Sea in –”

“No, Hangman, not Aelwen. Forget Aelwen! I’ve realized that she’s not my true love. Riz is my true love. And I need to find him as soon as possible, so –”

“Who’s Riz?”

Fabian huffed a laugh. At the Hangman, and at himself, and all the stupid, stupid measures he’d taken to distance himself from his feelings. “The Ball.”

“Oh, The Ball! You want to find The Ball?”

“Yes, I want to find Riz.”

The Hangman’s engine rumbled thoughtfully.

“Time is of the essence, Hangman,” Fabian prompted, a tad impatiently.

“I can take you to him, Master. Hop on.”

Fabian hopped on.

&

“Hangman… did you take me home?” Fabian asked, dread rising in his throat.

It was fully night. The waxing moon hung in the sky, washing the front lawn of the mansion in a silvery glow.

This was a nightmare. Fabian needed to find Riz! And here was the Hangman, wasting his time, taking him back to the mansion when he couldn’t afford to lose spare minutes and Riz was likely getting sadder and sadder and growing to hate Fabian irredeemably –

And then Fabian noticed a figure sitting on the marble steps of his front porch. A small figure. With a complexion that glimmered green in the moonlight.

Fabian threw himself off the Hangman so fast he nearly tripped and ate shit on the asphalt driveway. Barely regaining his footing, he sprinted over to the porch where Riz stood, wearing an extremely oversized windbreaker that clearly used to be Fabian’s, watching him with a raw, heartbroken expression that made Fabian feel even more dumb for somehow choosing this moment to discover that he actually kind of thought it was hot when Riz wore his clothes.

Focus, focus. Relax. Breathe.

He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, smoothing the dust off the front of his jacket. He had, in fairness, just run headlong across the yard like a maniac but he still, hopefully, had a vestige of a mature and cool vibe that he could potentially maintain.

“The Ball. Um.” He cleared his throat. “Riz.”

Riz’s eyes widened at the sound of his real name. Fabian desperately wanted to break eye contact, but he made himself keep looking. It wasn’t bad, anyway, locking eyes with Riz, just. Intense.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Dammit. He did want to know the answer, but he wished he would’ve picked a better opening line.

Riz sighed ruefully. “Well… I came here to stop Adaine from going to talk to you, but… I get the feeling I was too late for that.”

“Well. I’m glad you’re here. Because I need to – I have to talk to you.”

Riz stared at him questioningly.

Fabian thought hard. What to say first? There was just. So much. He felt like he was going to actually, physically burst.

“I lied earlier,” he blurted out.

Riz’s brow furrowed. He looked so cute when he was thinking hard. Focus, Fabian.

“About what, specifically?” Riz asked.

Fabian sighed. He still didn’t let himself break eye contact. “About, well… a lot of things. For a long time. To everyone, but especially to myself. And I… Well, the most recent lie was about… that night.”

Riz nodded slightly. Fabian appreciated that he didn’t try to pretend not to know which night they were talking about.

“It wasn’t a mistake. And I didn’t forget it either, I remember every part of it. I liked it. I liked…” He paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. And then he opened them and kept looking at Riz.

“I liked kissing you. And I want to do it again. If you’ll… if you’re okay with that.”

Riz’s initial expression seemed to indicate that he was very much okay with that. But then his face shuttered, and he asked, “Why?”

Fabian shoved his hands in his pockets to disguise the fact that he’d been about to reach forward for… Well. Kissing, and stuff. “What do you mean… why?” he asked, hoping he sounded mature and cool.

Riz sighed. “Like, why… How do you… feel about me?”

And then he started to look really sad, which upset Fabian because that had not been the intended outcome of this interaction.

“Because, Fabian…” he said. “I can’t just be a hookup for you. I can’t just be like any other kiss. I… Listen, you big dumbass, I love you. Like I’m really, really stupidly in love with you, and I have been almost since we met, and if you decide to just… kiss me, for the fun of it, or whatever, and you don’t actually feel anything about me, I’m probably just going to keep falling more and more in love and get even more sad about how you don’t feel the same, and… if you really care about me. Even just a little bit. You won’t do that to me. You’ll let me go.”

Riz looked like he was about to start crying, and Fabian began to panic.

“No, no, that isn’t it at all! Please don’t cry! I don’t want you to cry over me ever again! Unless it’s, like, happy tears, which – I’ll get to that. Right now I’m apologizing, because I need to. It’s already bad enough that you’ve been sad the last few days – I really fucked up. God.”

He stopped again. He wanted to hang his head in shame, but he made himself keep looking at Riz. Still.

“I fucked up so bad, Riz, and I’m so sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I did it anyway, because I was being stupid and involving you in all my issues, and… listen. I can’t promise that I’m… that I’m all good now, and there’s nothing wrong with my head anymore, because… I don’t think that’s true.

“But I’ve… I’ve realized a lot of things. I’ve realized that I was pretending to be someone I’m not, and ignoring what I really want. And I was pretending for so long that I’ve forgotten a lot of the… of the real me, the parts of me that aren’t my father, and I’m not all the way to figuring it out yet, but I can promise you that I’m trying now, and I definitely wasn’t trying before. Like, before, I was actively trying not to be authentic, so I do think that’s an improvement.

“And I really, really wish I could promise I’ll never hurt you again. Like, I really, really, really do, because I hate seeing you sad, and I hate even more that it’s my fault. But I can promise you that I’ll try, with everything I have, not to hurt you anymore. I will try. So hard. And if I fuck up again, you can totally punch me in the face.”

Riz quirked a smile even though his eyes looked a little wet. “I wouldn’t want to –”

“No, you don’t have to worry about not being able to win a fight against me, because I would let you win. That’s how I serious I am about this shit.”

Riz huffed a watery laugh, annoyed-but-also-a-little-amused-and-fond. “That’s not what I was going to say. Full of yourself, much? I meant, I wouldn’t want to, because, um.”

He cast his eyes down shyly and then glanced back up. “Did you miss the part where I said I love you?”

Fabian’s stomach flipped. He had not, in fact, missed that part. “No, I didn’t miss that part,” he said softly. Letting his voice be soft.

“Here’s the other thing I can promise you, The Ball. I mean, Riz,” he continued. “Until my dying day, I will try my utmost to make you happy, and if you’ll let me, I’ll stay by your side, and protect you from monsters, and help you with your cases, and give you rides to school, and – and I’ll kiss you as much you want, in whatever way you want, whenever and wherever you want to be kissed, I’ll do it for you –”

“What a sacrifice that would be for you,” Riz muttered with a hint of a smirk, and Fabian shot him an irritated look.

“The Ball, please. I’m trying to give you a romantic speech right now and you’re not even listening,”

“No, I’m listening, I swear! Please go on,” Riz said quickly, smile growing on his face.

The smile was encouraging. Fabian felt his chest warm with confidence. “And – and I’ll even do more than kissing. Like, other things. Like – you know what I mean. If you want. I mean, I want that. But if you don’t – that’s fine. I’m just saying, like, if you want to, like, do sex stuff, I would be like, okay with that. Like, really, really okay with it. And probably good at it, too, because of how I’m like, all strong and cool and handsome and stuff, you know, but also if you don’t want that, like, whatever, forget I said anything, it’s not even a big deal at all –”

“I do – I mean, I would also. Be okay with it. If you are,” Riz interrupted, cheeks lime green.

Fabian cleared his throat, willing his racing heartbeat to calm down. “Oh – okay, cool. Because – yeah. Anyway.”

They were silent for a moment. What had he been talking about, before?

“Romantic speech?” Riz prompted, lips twitching.

“Oh, yes. Anyway! I want to be by your side forever. I’ll do anything you ask of me. Because – and I absolutely cannot stress this enough, The Ball – I mean, Riz.”

He took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. “I love you too.”

As natural as breathing.

Riz’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open just a little. Fabian figured he might as well keep going – he was on a roll now.

“Yes, it’s true. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve known it for a long time now, but like… I didn’t want to let myself know it, because I was, you know… all fucked up inside.

“But now I’m embracing it fully, because I understand now that being with you would make me happier than anything else I could possibly do, and I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I really do think that I could make you happy, too, and if you’ll have me, I would even marry you. I mean, like, someday. If that’s too forward, I get it, and we can just –”

“No, no, it’s not too forward at all,” Riz interjected hurriedly. “I would totally marry you too, someday. Like, whatever, it’s chill. I mean, if you’re, like, cool with that.”

“I seriously just said I was,” Fabian frowned. “Are you sure you’re listening? Because –”

“Wait a second, what about Aelwen?” Riz asked, expression suddenly nervous.

“…Who?”

For some reason, Fabian was genuinely blanking on who that was, or why Riz would decide to mention them now, of all times. In his defense, there was a lot going on for him emotionally. He was also frustrated by the fact that Riz wasn’t smiling anymore and wanted to remedy the situation as fast as possible.

“Fabian – oh, are you being serious? Do you actually not remember who that is?” Riz looked a little weirded out, and a little amused, but mostly thrilled.

Fabian thought hard some more. Then it hit him.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, no. Forget her. I can’t believe you would even think that – anyway. After all this stuff I just said to you?” He sighed exasperatedly, but not really that exasperatedly, because he was in love and shit.

Riz’s face spread into a shy grin, eyes shining.

They were also standing much too far apart for Fabian’s liking. “Hey, The Ball, can you come here for a second? I have to tell you something important.”

“What is it?”

“No, just – come here, I have to whisper it.”

Riz walked over to Fabian, excited and nervous, and the proximity was making Fabian’s heartbeat perform some truly fascinating jazz rhythms. He leaned down as if to whisper in Riz’s ear but then instead he just kissed him.

He meant for it to be a short kiss but he maybe got a bit carried away. And in all fairness, Riz got a bit carried away, too. Before he knew it he was holding Riz by the face and hip and kissing him so hard he was almost dipping him, and Riz’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was making this sort of pleased and surprised hum that Fabian very much wanted to hear more of, preferably twenty-four hours a day for the rest of his life.

They finally broke apart as Fabian lifted Riz up, letting him wrap his legs around his waist, because he seemed a little out of breath and Fabian didn’t want him to fall over. And also because he was in love with him and wanted to touch as much of him at the same time as he could physically manage.

“I lied, I didn’t have anything important to tell you,” Fabian murmured. “I promise that’s the last time I’ll lie to you. Ever.”

“I don’t know, are you sure it was a lie? That seemed pretty important to me.”

Fabian laughed and dizzily spun them around as Riz laughed too, and then he set Riz down on the grass so that he could use his hands to cup his face and just. Look at him. He looked happier than Fabian had seen him in the entire two years they’d known each other, and Fabian had made him feel that way. And that, in turn, made Fabian incandescently happy.

He’d been holding himself back for so long. And for what? None of the reasons he’d been telling himself for months felt like they mattered at all anymore. Especially now that he knew it was possible to feel this much… joy.

Riz wound his arms around Fabian’s waist and pressed their bodies together. He grinned and wrinkled his nose as Fabian kissed his cheek. “Love you.”

And then the other cheek for good measure. “Love you,” he said again, with more emphasis on the ‘love’. He felt like he needed to say it as much as possible to make up for all the times he hadn’t said it. If you told the truth ten thousand times, did it become even more true?

Riz bit his lip and smiled so hard it looked like his face was going to split in half. “Um, so… do you have any more… important things to tell me?”

“I love you,” Fabian replied reflexively. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. Oh, wait, did you mean like –”

He was cut off as Riz kissed him on the mouth, hard, which. He wasn’t going to complain about that.

Riz pulled away, breathless. “I love you too, I love you so, so, so much, Fabian, I’m in love with you like you wouldn’t believe, I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to blow past that or anything –”

“No, baby, I get it, I love you, too.” He reached down and swept one arm behind Riz’s knees, picking him up bridal-style and climbing the porch steps as Riz laughed wildly, clutching the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, Hangman,” Fabian called out as Riz got down to business kissing his neck. “Make sure no one goes upstairs tonight, please.”

“You got it, Master,” he heard the Hangman growl as he carried Riz inside, letting the front door fall shut behind him.

&

The Hangman’s engine rumbled as Fabian pulled up in front of Strongtower Luxury Apartments. The front door swung open and Riz skipped out.

Fabian would never get used to that – the look on Riz’s face when he saw him these days. He’d always been happy to see Fabian, of course, but now he was so happy that eye contact was like staring directly at the sun.

He also had dark circles under his eyes. Again.

“Did you get enough sleep last night?” Fabian asked. Irritated but not really that irritated because his boyfriend was kissing him on the cheek and hopping up behind him on his motorcycle.

“Um… not really. I was working on the case. I made a lot of breakthroughs, though!”

Fabian twisted around in his seat to glare at him. Riz had the decency to look cowed.

“Come on, babe, you know what I told you. Seven hours, at least. I worry about you, you know!” he huffed.

“I know. Last night was an exception.” Riz reached up to fix a stray lock of Fabian’s hair. “Like I told you, I made a lot of breakthroughs, so tonight I won’t have to work on it as much. Are you happy?”

Fabian was. He really, really, really, really, really was.

“I guess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Does that mean you can come over tonight, then?”

Riz grinned cockily. God. Confidence was so unbelievably hot on him. That was another thing Fabian was probably never going to get over.

“If that’s what you want, then sure,” Riz said, smirking nonchalantly.

“God, you’re really the fucking worst, do you know that? I’m supposed to be the one who’s, like, aloof and playing hard to get.”

“Anyone who thinks that doesn’t really know you.”

“I guess not,” Fabian said, voice coming out soft. That had been happening a lot lately. The softness. The vulnerability. The love.

He cupped Riz’s cheek and kissed him, intense and passionate. “Gotta get my kisses in,” he murmured.

“Gotta get your kisses in,” Riz murmured back, the hint of a laugh in his voice. Face awestruck. Always, still, just as awestruck as the first time they’d kissed.

Fabian gazed at him for a moment longer, and then turned to face the road. He felt Riz wrap his arms around his body from behind and then he took a deep, contented breath.

Safe.

Ready.

“Ready for today, hero?” Riz asked playfully, squeezing his abdomen.

“You know it,” Fabian said. And Fabian knew it too.

Off they went.

The legend began.

**Author's Note:**

> My understanding of Fabian is that he's a massive dork but has absolutely no awareness of how much of a dork he is. Riz, on the other hand, is fully conscious of his own dorkiness. What a pair.
> 
> Also, if this had been written from Riz's perspective it would've had a crime-solving B-plot, but Fabian has an intelligence of 12, so
> 
> This is the angstiest and definitely the longest one-shot I've ever written. Thank you SO much for reading. I hope you have a spectacular day, and get your kisses in (if you like kisses!)


End file.
